


Breach of Resolve

by nonky



Series: Breach of Resolve [1]
Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Sandstorm could never have planned how Jane would break Kurt Weller, because the human heart was too complex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Minor edits for typo/brain freeze on Jan. 20, 2017
> 
> Now part one of a series, with the second part posted Feb. 6, 2017  
> If you enjoy pairing the story with the song inspiring the tone, look up Mumford and Sons' "White Blank Page."

They didn't talk in the car anymore, even on good days. 

Kurt knew he shouldn't be driving Jane home. It was a frequent lapse of reason last year, and even then it hadn't been a great idea. Her guards were going to the same place at the same time. He should have been eager to go home. 

It felt good to bookend his day with Jane, seeing her safely to her door, but they had been raiding human traffickers and tracking terrorists. He wasn't escorting her home after a date. Eventually, she had been the one to suggest his career would suffer with the appearance of too much personal attention. 

Looking back, he wondered if she had been worried for him or for what he'd notice there. She might have slipped out to see him the first time she did it, but the other times ditching her guards were for meetings with Oscar. Kurt had been in his own apartment, worrying she was lonely or in danger. Jane was out fucking her ex on pool tables and whispering about trust exercises to earn clues to her past. 

He could acknowledge her eyes were just as beautiful, and her body made him distracted. The trick was brushing off the emotions he was sure would die out. The anger was settling into a life lesson he could bear. The disappointment was harder. Knowing all the facts didn't do much for the confusion of how things had gone so wrong. He felt like Taylor had disappeared in front of him, again, this time a woman he'd wanted more than life. 

Failure was a teacher. He knew to trust her only so far, but he was still figuring out the distance.

He cleared his throat as they pulled off the street. Kurt had no intention of going inside, but her vulnerability resisted bloodstains. She was under his protection. It was a reality of his job, and he was trying to redeem himself. 

"Thank you," Jane said quietly. "Are the guys behind us?"

Her detail was changed when she returned. Her former guards were considered compromised until they passed some tests. The new guards didn't know the old Jane, but she had learned their names and thanked them for every small duty. They parked a few blocks away instead of openly watching her safe house, but they seemed to like her. 

"They were going to submit the logs for the week," he said. "It might be five or ten minutes longer."

"Okay, well, I'll just wait outside until they get here," she said. "Have a good night."

He frowned. It was better to drive away. He wanted to drive away, but he hated the idea of leaving her on the curb in the cold. 

"Why do you have to wait outside? I have a spare key if you don't have yours."

Jane was halfway out the door, facing away. "One of them has to clear the house before I can go in," Jane told him. "I'm fine waiting. I have my coat."

And it would be cruel to leave her outside freezing for the sake of five minutes of his night. Kurt turned off the car and followed her quickly. He pulled out his keys and fumbled through for the one he needed. Jane's key had an arbitrary letter and number code on the label, one he could recite despite its lack of meaning. He had used it as a comfort object, content to know he could have gone to see her at any hour. It was a minor solace he had never gone, especially when he might have made a fool of himself leading a frantic search she didn't want. 

"Oh, you don't have to bother-" Jane was standing awkwardly, holding both hands in her pockets. "I really don't mind waiting."

"We said we'd find a way to work together, right," he asked firmly. "This is the way. You and I both do what we should, and if I'm going to bring you home I should check the house."

She nodded stiffly. "Yeah, of course."

Clearing the nearly empty rooms took barely a minute. Kurt still didn't like the way it felt abandoned. At least a hotel room had a sense of bland style and comfort. The safe house was a foxhole with central air. 

"I'm good from here," Jane smiled with effort, her hands still dragging in her pockets. 

It was perverse, or maybe he was being bitter, but getting nudged out made him want to linger. Kurt looked around, noting the age of the furniture. 

"They keep recycling old stuff from all the safe houses," he told Jane. "If something is worn out, we'll replace it. Some of this stuff is older than I am."

She shrugged. "I've had worse. It works fine. It's just me here."

His sigh was louder than he meant. "Jane, you're not in prison. If something in the house is awful, no one will notice unless they live here. The FBI is your landlord, and you are allowed to need things."

Her nod was quick, with the skittish edge she'd had since the CIA took her away. 

"I promise I will say something," she agreed. "But really, I haven't noticed. I already feel bad you're losing more of your evening doing me a favour."

It was his job, not a favour. He could delegate Jane a lot more, but it didn't make sense. People were distrustful and hostile to her, and that was unnecessary. If he could sit in his dead mentor's office and find a way to accept Jane's presence, Kurt didn't think any other agent got to treat her badly. They didn't know the story of her life, except that it had been harsh and filled with dangerous people. She had an agreement with the government to help end Sandstorm's plans. His people would fall in and cooperate or keep out of the way. 

"You needed to get home," he said. "But I will go and let you relax. I'll see you tomorrow. Come lock up behind me."

She followed him back to the door. The tiny entryway was just big enough for two people. His hand flicked over the series of locks, testing the way they turned. One had a wobble he didn't like. 

"Do your guards know about this," Kurt asked. "This needs to be fixed tomorrow."

"It's only the one lock. I'm sure it's fine. I can handle anyone who gets inside," Jane said. "Don't get my detail in trouble. I didn't even really notice it myself."

The stupidly protective impulses would not lay off, and he still touched that safe house key in his pocket to make sure Jane was within reach. Kurt felt his back go up, and he snapped the top deadbolt locked. 

"You need to be noticing if they don't," he said seriously. "And don't tell me what to do with my agents. You want to let me out of this porch so we can go back in?"

"I'm - tired," Jane said, her voice strained. "I'd really appreciate it if we could talk tomorrow. Besides, things aren't like that with us."

Kurt turned in the small space, his shoulders tight. "Aren't like what?"

He was tired, too, but mental exhaustion didn't let up by ignoring remarks like that. He crossed his arms, and Jane backed away with a step that didn't seem intentional. She had come back afraid of things that never bothered her. The safe house had to be secure for practical reasons, and it should be a place she could be less tense. Something brittle in his self-control was splintering, and he hadn't spent his summer being tortured. 

"It's not like last year, and I know I can't go to you for everything," Jane said, crossing her own arms. "I don't expect you to treat me-"

"With decency? As a human being I am obliged to keep safe and well? With any degree of kindness or compassion? What mistake am I making now, Jane?!"

Her flinch was the beginning of a retreat back to the living room, where Jane could stand back and eye him anxiously. Kurt paced the floor in the middle of the room, his whole body far too keyed up for a simple disagreement. 

It was all out of proportion, and he could see she felt it, too. They couldn't get to a professional distance because it didn't exist for them. 

"I know you don't like me," she cried. "I don't want you to pretend you do."

His second thoughts - all thoughts - expired without a chance. Kurt stopped suddenly, his hands catching her above the elbows and giving her a shake he regretted immediately. 

"I don't like you! I don't like the way you make me admit it when I'm just trying to be reasonable," he yelled. "I don't like you."

Her eyes were tearing, and he let her go roughly. It put her off balance and she fell back a little, as if he'd thrown her away. Her body slumped, and she looked down and away. He had meant to leave her safe for the night. Leaving her had always been wrenching, and he'd had no practice in not caring. 

"I'm sorry for what I've done. I'm sorry about Mayfair. But I don't like you, and talking nicely doesn't fool me," Jane said angrily, shrugging out of her coat. "I've had enough lies."

The tattoos were a beautiful patchwork of lies polluting her flesh. She wore them gracefully like the martyr she was. She had come out of a bag in Times Square as innocent as a child, deliberately made ignorant of her own plans. What she didn't know wasn't her fault, so Sandstorm had to answer for everything that wasn't Kurt's stupidity.

What he'd hoped were callused feelings hadn't even begun to scar. Kurt stared as Jane shifted and moved. She couldn't stay still and he was frozen. He waited for her to look up and see him plunged head first back in time. He might as well have been seeing her for the first time, letting her sculpt his face with a cold hand. 

"Jane?" He willed one of them to just run behind a closed door. If he didn't have to look at her he could be smarter about this. If he could collect himself, he could keep his promises. 

She looked up, startled. Her arms fell to her sides and she opened her lips. He'd made a lot of promises to her last year, and a lot of them were locked up in a tormented knot in his chest. 

"I don't like you, Jane. I don't like you the same way you don't like me," he said clearly. "I'm not going to be able to forget it anytime soon."

They both moved to meet, a clash of bodies clumsy with desperation. Jane went on her toes and kissed him tentatively. They stumbled around, grasping and hissing breaths. 

"I don't know what we're doing," she whispered. 

"We're clearing the air," he said gruffly. 

He was better at lying than he'd ever thought, particularly to himself. Kurt buried his hand in her hair, feeling the tangle around his fingers with satisfaction. He wanted to be trapped like this. 

She pushed him back and studied him, as if checking his identity. Her hand brushed under his chin and she smiled at the scratch of perpetual stubble. Jane nodded, blinking like her eyes couldn't be trusted. She steadied him as he slipped out of his coat. She opened her arms for him to lose his will with a groan of agony. He couldn't be near her without grief for the closeness they wouldn't get back. 

There were stairs to her bedroom. Together they climbed them, missing steps and catching themselves by leaning on one another. His hand missed the light switch. Jane stripped herself efficiently, holding him by the shirt as he strained to see her. Kurt barely registered anything except the shape of her body, all the ink blurring in his vision. 

"Now you," she demanded. 

She had his shirt open and down his arms while he wrestled out of his pants and boxers. Their boots were somewhere else, discarded like his sanity. He picked her up, ignoring the way she had to quell an urge to fight back. In a fight, you stayed on your feet. If you fell, you got back up. He wasn't getting back up after Jane. 

The drop to the bed was harder than he meant. She tried to push up on her arms and he got her wrists. Her palms were one of the few places unadorned, and his tongue traced loving curls of heat across them. He bit gently at her fingers and massaged them between his.

"I need my hands, please," she said, voice so throaty it sounded painful. "Kurt, I need my hands."

He needed her hands right where they were, but this was already feeling violent. He knew Jane could stop him, and he would stop. Maybe he was going crazy, but this was a way to put things to rest. They would take all the might have beens and burn through them just once. 

He did let go. Jane exhaled and he realized she'd been scared of him. There was no time to find words to reassure her. Kurt's mouth found hers and he kissed her long and deep. Jane groped down his sides and reached between them, touching his cock gently. 

In the dark, the tattoos were just shades and contours. They ran contrary to her form, like lies sat uneasily in Jane's soul. He stroked down her body, cupping her pussy as she pumped his cock. She was wet, and he wanted to have the patience to fuck her with his mouth before he did anything else. There wasn't time. There was barely air left. 

"Get in me," Jane said. She had let him go, and her knees were wide open around his hips. She lay back, grinding on him on the way down. 

He would be ashamed later, Kurt told himself. He fit against Jane and pushed in, shocking himself with how roughly he'd gone. His dry throat made him sound teary as he said her name like a question.

"You're okay," she whispered. "It's good. I'm good." 

She moved them first, rucking up to him and convincing him he could continue. Every thrust burned him, and his heart was breaking. He had told himself it was better to break now than in the field, under fire. The crisis was him, and he had escalated it with his mistake. 

God, she didn't feel wrong. The grip of her arms paled to sinking hot into her pussy and hearing her chiming moan. 

It seemed like the faster and rougher he moved, the less control he felt. Jane got stronger as she dropped deeper into her pleasure. He could feel the haze of love smoothing out anything complicated. He was terrified of leaving her unsatisfied, of being a disappointment to the one woman who mattered.

"Are you with me," he asked.

"I'm here with you, I promise."

They were melted together, and there was no question she wanted him now. Kurt felt the jerking twitches in her abdomen. He could finish her and she was too far gone to do anything except go with it. He wanted her to watch her come around his cock.

"Can I make you come, Jane?"

And he had to ask, because her life had been a series of losses of control to other people. This hadn't started with good thoughts or affection, but there could be respect. 

"Yes," she whispered, bracing for it. 

The next thrust was harder, shoving them across the mattress. His feet came off the floor and he cupped Jane's hips to keep her with him as he rose to his knees. She slid a little further, her head going over the side of the bed. 

"Oh, God," she murmured. 

Jane arched when he thrust, snapping her neck too harshly. The jolt of movement looked painful. He surprised himself by grazing his palm along a too-sharp cheekbone, up to fist in her hair. She gritted her teeth, tensing as his mouth opened on her throat. 

"What have you done to me," he asked her, crushing her to prevent an answer.

There was still static, confusion. Part of him wanted to hurt her back, and it came out as a graze of teeth. She froze, letting him. Being able to take it out on her made everything bitter feel petty. When his lips turned to her jaw, it was a gentle kiss.

Jane moaned wordlessly, her mouth turning to find his. She sighed into his kiss like a final breath.

His hand untangled and covered the back of her neck, supporting it as he started moving again. He was too close to be loving, but something harsh had gone away. They met in the middle, working together. 

They were quaking, beyond the amount of trembling a human body could produce. The city must be feeling it. Kurt moved inside her with a grunt of anxiety. This wouldn't be enough for him. The resentment keeping them isolated had worn away where their skin touched. He hadn't understood how it would rock him to be literally part of her. 

She was going to kill him from the inside out. Jane let out a sharp, rising shout. Her fists dug in at his lower back and he slowed to let her adjust her position. She was red in the face, her body scuffed in swathes where he'd grabbed at her. 

Green eyes slitted open as she made tiny sounds of effort. Her knees rose higher, feet hitching in the bedding. She lifted her hips off the bed, swallowing hard as he - god knows how - sank deeper. He wanted to help, but he couldn't understand what she was trying. 

Her calves flexed and she fell back, suddenly aligned flawlessly. What had been a rough joining was a weld. Jane's legs wrapped over his thighs, both sets of limbs coiled to move. Their hips had to follow, the rest of them tangling spiderlike as she held the difficult posture. 

He was just rutting at her now, riding the silencing intensity of it. Jane put her mouth on his shoulder and hummed a deep resonance with closed lips. She lifted her head and whined her need. 

Every thrust stopped at the quick of her body, Kurt trying to stop short of bruising. Jane suspended herself off his hips, her muscles riding him as he hauled in aching breaths. She clawed at him and he pinned her wrist with his free hand. 

"Bite down, Jane," he urged. "I don't care, you can bite."

She shook her head, but it wasn't really an answer. Her lips roamed damp streamers on his shoulder and she bared her teeth. The quick pain edged him off his control and down into the fire with her. Jane squeezed his life out with glad, needy noises. She clamped around him and forced him to hold steady where she liked him. They wavered and clutched at each other. 

God, she could come all day, and it was a few minutes before Jane stopped milking him. He massaged the nape of her neck and looked at her face as she let one leg fall limp to the outside of his. 

"What happens now," she asked. Her eyes were wide, glassy with what he thought were tears. Her chest heaved underneath him and he slipped his arm beneath her back to hug her. 

"Shh, Jane, don't do that," he said reverently. "We'll live. We'll figure it out. Just get your breath."

"No, I need to know," she said unevenly. "Please."

Stoic resolve to do his job and nothing more would never work now. Kurt settled her other leg on the bed and pulled out with a sore exhale. He kissed her forehead and let Jane turn to her side. She was curling smaller and smaller. 

"We find a way to make it all right," he said, trying to inject confidence in essentially empty words. "We earn the rest of our lives to spend as we choose."

She shivered, her gaze finally easing from the panicked stare. Jane inched toward him and her head rested on his chest. "I don't know how to do that." 

He chuckled. "We might let the team help, or at least Patterson," he said lightly. "I thought I'd show off my FBI connections and impress you."

He kissed her hair and gathered her in, immersing himself in Jane's touch.


End file.
